


Near and Far

by hope_s



Series: Heistwives Toybox [11]
Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Debbie being hot af in Rome, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Long-Distance Sex, Lou POV, Lou's club, Married Couple, Masturbation, Pining, Post-Canon, Smut, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, bullet vibrator, glass dildo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23140576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_s/pseuds/hope_s
Summary: Debbie is away, working on some reconnaissance. Lou can't remember why she stayed behind. Debbie knows how to make sure the time passes quickly.
Relationships: Lou Miller & Debbie Ocean, Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean
Series: Heistwives Toybox [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583962
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	Near and Far

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TumblrAnon15](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=TumblrAnon15).



> Fulfilling the prompt "video sex while Debbie is scouting for a job". I hope you enjoy!

**Spring 2019**

Lou had a routine. From Tuesday through Friday, she worked afternoon and evening hours at the club, never arriving home past eleven at night. She did the last-minute cleaning, talked to the DJs, received shipments, and supervised the back-room business. Debbie was a morning person, and Lou would gladly perform the tasks that other staff didn’t enjoy in order to optimize the amount of time she spent with her wife in bed. Saturdays were the only night she stayed later. It was nice to see everything come together, and sometimes Debbie came, too, and even though she usually crashed in Lou’s office around midnight, Lou appreciated the gesture.

Tonight was a Friday, however, and eleven o’clock had come and gone. A part of Lou wanted to go home. What she really wanted was to go home to Debbie, but that was impossible. Debbie was in Rome, scouting out a few important pieces of their Coney Island project ( _“Baby, all the rollercoasters are owned by Italians. I thought everyone knew that._ ”), and for some reason – the logic of which was now evading Lou’s memory – Lou had stayed behind. She leaned against the railing of the balcony and looked down at the dance floor. Whatever her morose feelings at the moment, she _was_ proud of this little empire she had created: Anchorline, she had named it, in reference to the ships passing in the bay not far away, but more literally, it was something that grounded her. She had been drifting, and the club had pulled her out of despair almost five years ago, half-way through Debbie’s sentence. The edges were a little dirty, the music was eclectic, the drinks were good until around midnight, and the security was infallible. Lou didn’t steal from clients. Well, not without provocation, and more importantly, she had (mostly) convinced Debbie to keep her sticky fingers to herself at the club, too. Mostly.

Lou sighed and sipped a beer directly from the bottle. She didn’t drink liquor anymore, not often, anyway. She didn’t miss it. The years without Debbie tasted like vodka and bourbon. It was nauseating to think about it. She liked beer and wine, though. Wine was late nights with Debbie, warm and soft and sensual – good food, a simple heist, and a bath. Beer was the end of a long day of reconnaissance, was watching Debbie unwind, undress, unravel. They both drank directly from the bottle, Debbie’s lips wrapping around the end, throat bobbing as she swallowed. Lou squeezed her eyes shut and wondered if she was supposed to miss her this much. She opened her eyes again at once, reproaching herself, because, _of course_ , she was. They hadn’t been apart since the wedding. It was natural to want her back, to want her _always_. They had _earned_ that, goddamn it.

Lou looked down into the crowd without really seeing it, aching for a glimpse of long dark hair paired with a dress whose expense far-exceeded that of anyone else’s in the room. A simple watch on a delicate wrist, long fingers…Lou blinked and did a double take, felt her stomach sink predictably. No, it wasn’t Debbie; the woman swaying near one of the columns supporting the opposite balcony was a little bit younger, a little more carefree. Still, her dark eyes and sharp jawline were achingly familiar. Lou took a larger swig of beer to ease the lump in her throat. She had lasted ten years without Debbie, had missed her without any promise of her return, had hoped without guarantees. But now, Debbie was back – _hers_ , but not _here_ , a bittersweet flavor mixing with the taste of hops on Lou’s tongue. She kept watching the woman below and smiled sadly when she was joined by a tall blonde woman who really _didn’t_ look like Lou, but the image was still evocative – dark hair next to light as the second woman whispered something in the ear of the first. Lou chewed the inside of her cheek and turned away. She pulled out her phone.

 _Good music tonight_ , she typed, _wish you were here_. She stared at the message for a few seconds before hitting send and slipping the phone back into her pocket. Lou made her way downstairs, weaving through dancing couples and chatting groups, tossing her now-empty beer bottle in a recycling receptacle on her way to the bar. The end by the stairs had one free stool. Lou bypassed it, pushed herself onto the countertop and swung her legs to the other side, before sliding back onto the floor behind the bar. The bottled beer was in a fridge on the wall. She pulled one out, checked the label to make sure it was the good stuff and not the shit they started selling later in the evening, and cracked it open with the bottle opener in her pocket. She had just leaned against the wall near the staff exit and raised the beer to her lips when she felt a buzz in the pocket of her blue velvet blazer.

 _Tell me about it,_ Debbie had written.

Lou grinned and sipped her drink, thinking, eyes darting over the dancefloor before her, traveling up the columns to the balcony above. She lingered on the silhouettes of two people in the ten-o’-clock sector of her vision. _There’s a couple having sex on my railing_ , she typed _._

_Is it hot?_

_No._ Lou could almost see Debbie smirking at that response.

 _We’d do it better?_ Debbie asked. Lou’s heart beat increased, trying not to think too hard about fucking Debbie on that very same railing, but she could almost feel the contrasting textures between lace lingerie and smooth skin and velvety wetness. Lou’s fingers tingled and twitched.

 _Of course_ , she replied. She sipped more of her beer and hoped that the moving lights and the alcohol would prevent anyone at the bar from noticing the blush on her cheeks.

 _What else?_ Debbie prompted.

Lou looked around again, searching for the absurd rather than the erotic, but her eyes lit instead on the women she had noticed earlier, the ones who recalled herself and Debbie. They were dancing close to each other, hips swaying. The blonde woman’s hands sank lower down the back of the brunette’s dress, and Lou shivered, almost able to feel Debbie’s curves under her own palms. _There’s a woman who looks like you, dancing with a woman who looks like me._

_Oh?_

Lou’s stomach swooped as the dark-haired woman spun around to press herself against the blonde woman’s front. They moved together with a fluidity that betrayed their familiarity. The blonde woman’s hands traced the brunette’s sides, stroking all the way up to her breasts. Lou inhaled a gasp and realized she had been holding her breath. _They’re all but fucking on the dance floor_ , Lou wrote. 

_Jealous, baby?_

_Little bit. Miss u._

_Less than a wk and u can fuck me on the dance floor._ Debbie’s words were placating, suggestive, and sarcastic all at once. Lou felt a hot rush of arousal in her core.

 _Rly?_

_No, but u can fuck me._

_Can’t wait, honey._

_I know. Talk to u soon, baby._

_Love u, Debs_.

Lou slipped her phone back into her pocket, knew better than to expect a response. It was after six in the morning in Rome now, and Debbie would be busy getting ready for a long day of reconnaissance. Lou finished her beer and tossed the bottle into the dumpster on her way out the back door, not sparing a glance for the rows of bottles in the backroom. Her staff knew what they were doing, and she didn’t feel like micromanaging tonight. The night was warm and humid, and she could hear crickets humming as she passed the park a few blocks from home. She was glad she had chosen to walk tonight – the fresh air was calming. _Less than a week_ , she reminded herself. _She’s not in prison, Miller. She’s coming home._ It was easy to say it, even to herself. It was harder to believe it. Lou’s body knew how to miss Debbie Ocean, knew the ins and outs of yearning, had perfected that particular discomfort over ten years of separation. Lou found herself at the door of the loft without a clear memory of having gotten there. Her route was blurred with familiarity and wistfulness and a touch of alcohol, overtaken by dread that Debbie _was_ still inside, that she still had another week, another month, another year.

Lou groaned and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing the heaviness to dissipate. She didn’t need to relive it, forced herself to take several deep breaths against the surge of memories as sharp as needles. A breeze ruffled her hair, making her shiver. She lowered her hands. The world had righted itself once more. The night was full of the sound of rumbling traffic, of crickets, of the almost inaudible lapping of the waves on the shore across the road. Lou sighed and unlocked the door. She expected the loft to feel lonely without Debbie, but she had to keep reminding herself that it didn’t. Because there was Debbie’s favorite mug still sitting next to the electric kettle, waiting for her to come home. There was the pile of records – Bach, Stravinsky, Rossini – that were certainly not Lou’s. Upstairs, there were Debbie’s favorite toothpaste, favorite shampoo, favorite lotion. And on the bed – _their_ bed – the pillow still smelled like her. Lou stripped off her clothes, got into bed, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Her phone buzzed and she unlocked it, ready for an onslaught of photos from Debbie to be printed and filed in the cabinet downstairs beneath the sink in the spare bathroom-turned-strategy chamber. Lou scrolled through them lazily – rollercoasters, business men, logos, disguises. Debbie was using a burner phone and Nine Ball was encrypting Lou’s – otherwise all of this would have been enough to incriminate them before the job ever really started. Debbie was a professional; she didn’t half-ass anything. The phone buzzed again, this time announcing a text from Debbie’s personal number. Lou frowned, confused. Debbie usually refrained from texting anything personal while she was working. She clicked into the message and felt a moan catch in her throat. It was a picture of the Roman skyline, taken from the balcony outside Debbie’s hotel room. The view was blurry, though. In focus, in the foreground, was Debbie’s naked torso, illuminated by bright morning sunlight. Lou could just see her mouth at the top of the screen, lower lip caught between her teeth.

“Fuck,” Lou whispered into the darkness, eyes scanning the photograph. Debbie’s nipples were hard and peaked, begging for attention. Lou could almost taste them. She rubbed her lips together. The phone buzzed again, this time with a text.

 _Miss u too baby. Wish u were here._ Lou didn’t know how to reply. Everything she thought of seemed weak and insufficient. Lou settled on staring at the image, imagining her tongue tracing Debbie’s collarbones, her hands cupping the weight of her breasts. _Sweet dreams, Lou_ , Debbie added after a few seconds. Lou smiled to herself, turned off the phone, and buried her face in Debbie’s pillow. She didn’t sleep at first, let her mind paint a picture of Debbie naked, bathed in sunlight. Her pulse beat between her legs, lazy and undemanding, but warm nonetheless. Her idylls turned to dreams.

**

Lou awoke slowly, pulled from somewhere warm and comfortable. She couldn’t remember the dream – no images or sounds or tastes – but she felt sure that Debbie had been there. Everything was warmer when Debbie was there; everything felt more balanced. She slowly became aware that her phone was buzzing once more, vibrating against the water glass on her bedside table – tinny and obnoxious. Lou groaned, didn’t want to deal with Tammy asking her to lunch or Constance asking her to look over God-knows-what video _this_ time. She slapped a hand out to pick up the phone, fumbled for a moment, and then blinked confusion at Debbie’s name on the screen and a small green graphic of a video camera. The only person she had ever FaceTimed was Constance, and that had been quite by accident. Debbie usually preferred to text and only called when she was walking somewhere. Moreover, the call was coming in from Debbie’s personal number, like the photograph the night before. Nonplussed and groggy, Lou answered the call.

“Hi, baby.” Debbie’s face swam into focus on the screen, and Lou swallowed hard. She missed her enough for it to be a little pathetic.

“Hi,” she replied, feeling herself going a little red.

“Did you just wake up?”

Lou nodded. “Had a late night last night.”

Debbie smirked. “I know.”

Lou tipped her head back on the pillow, grinning and rolling her eyes at the same time. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

Debbie gave her an innocent smile and batted her eyelashes. “Oh, you mean the disguises?”

Lou groaned and shook her head. “I mean _you_ , and you know it.”

A faint blush of pink appeared on Debbie’s cheeks, barely noticeable. “Hm. Did you touch yourself to that photo?” she asked slyly.

Lou chuckled. “I would have, but I was already half asleep.”

“So, you didn’t come?” Debbie maintained her bland, curious tone, but Lou knew she was teasing her.

“ _No_ , Debbie, I didn’t come,” Lou told her, propping herself up against the headboard. Debbie lifted a tiny cup of espresso into view on the screen, stirred it with a small silver spoon, then put the spoon in her mouth and drew it out slowly. It left her lips with a pop, and Debbie watched the spoon dip back into the coffee.

“Do you want to?” she asked. The coffee, the spoon, Debbie’s hair falling gracefully into her face – it was all a calculated air of nonchalance, and Lou almost fell for it, _would_ have fallen for it if she didn’t know her so well. 

“What?” Lou knew what she was asking, but she liked making her say it, liked making her ask, liked making her _beg_ , sometimes.

Debbie gave a groan of impatience and leaned back in her chair. She had been sitting so that only her head and neck were visible, but as she leaned back, Lou could see that she was topless. She swallowed hard and tried not to focus too completely on Debbie’s breasts. Debbie’s hotel room was bright and clean. A sliding glass door to Debbie’s right led out onto a balcony. Behind her, the bed was neatly made in white and gold, not exactly Debbie’s preferred aesthetic, but it seemed to fit the scene. It was still bright outside, though the long shadows hinted at oncoming evening. Lou could almost feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, could almost smell Debbie’s espresso as she raised the little cup to her lips and sipped.

“Ask me again,” Lou said quietly, voice heavy now and more serious.

Debbie cleared her throat with a dry laugh and tilted her head as she looked at Lou. “Do you want me to make you come?” she asked. A smirk played around her lips.

Lou allowed a groan of want to escape from her lungs. “Yeah, Debs, I do.”

“Go get your computer,” Debbie ordered.

“Why?” Lou narrowed her eyes, but reached for her laptop, which was lying on the shelf under her bedside table, all the same.

“Pull up FaceTime on there instead,” Debbie told her impatiently. “I want to see you better.”

Lou was skeptical, but sure enough, she found the little green video camera and clicked on it. “What are you using?”

“iPad,” Debbie told her as though it were obvious. Lou knew that Debbie hadn’t owned an iPad when she left, that she probably still didn’t _own_ one legally. “And this,” Debbie added. She held up something crystalline and shiny, Lou looked closer, and felt her mouth go a little dry.

“Please tell me you didn’t steal that from someone.”

“Of course not, baby,” Debbie said, twirling the glass dildo between her fingers. “I stole it from the store. Original packaging and everything. You like it?”

Lou nodded. “I do.” She pushed the blankets from her body, feeling suddenly pleasantly warm, and placed her computer between her spread legs, angling the screen so that Debbie could see all of her. Debbie’s gaze dropped unabashedly to Lou’s arousal for a moment, and then she hastened to mirror Lou’s position, bringing the iPad with her to the bed in the center of the room. Lou watched hungrily as Debbie’s body came into view – long bare legs, narrow hips, strong torso, and glistening wetness between her legs that Lou could almost taste. _God_ , she missed her, wished she could run her tongue down her sternum to circle her belly button and then sink lower, lower into salty-sweet heat with Debbie’s hips bucking under her. As though she could read Lou’s mind, Debbie trailed her fingers over herself and then brought them to her mouth, sucking lazily.

“Touch yourself,” Debbie requested as she released her fingers and passed them back down her body. “Please.”

Lou nodded and let her right hand, which had been subconsciously massaging her breast, drop to her arousal, which was shockingly wet. She gasped and then sighed in relief as she rubbed through her folds. It wasn’t just the relief of finally taking the edge off the prickling need; it was that she would have thought she would be disappointed by watching Debbie but not being able to touch her, by having Debbie watch her but not being able to feel the brush of her fingers or the shape of her lips pressed against her inner thigh. Somehow though, with Debbie there on the other side of the screen, it was far from perfect, but it was enough. Lou relaxed into the sensations, eyes fixed on Debbie.

The glass dildo sparkled in the sunlight as Debbie spread her folds and ran it up and down. Lou watched the movements, almost desperate to see it sink inside her, but then Debbie brought the toy to her mouth and slipped the rounded end between her lips, tasting herself on the crystal. Lou reached for the bullet vibrator in her bedside table, turned it on, and brought it to the sensitive skin of her hip crease. She was more concerned with watching Debbie at the moment. Debbie smiled and passed the toy back down her body to slide through her folds again. Lou could hear the movement of her wet skin. Her mouth watered.

“Fuck,” she whispered as her belly swooped and she felt herself blush.

“Can I go inside, Lou?” Debbie asked. She pressed the dildo tantalizingly against her entrance.

Lou groaned, conflicted. “No,” she said after a moment, “not yet.” As much as she wanted Debbie to fuck herself hard and fast, she also wanted to draw this out. She slid the vibrator an inch closer to her own arousal. “I wish I could taste you,” she told her.

“Mm. Me too,” Debbie replied. She brought the toy to her mouth again and licked it, eyes fixed on Lou’s face. Lou moved the vibrator closer to her clit, imagining the wet heat of Debbie’s mouth. Her hips jumped. Debbie grinned at her and brought the dildo back down her body to slide against her cunt, teasing her entrance and rubbing against her clit. Lou felt her lips part hungrily.

“Keep going,” she muttered. “Fuck yourself for me.” She dipped the vibrator down to her own entrance to gather her arousal on the tip as Debbie slid the dildo into herself. Debbie’s strokes were slow, each one reaching a little deeper than the last until only the diamond-shaped hilt of the crystal toy remained. Lou could almost feel its hard edges between her fingers.

“You’re dripping, baby,” Debbie murmured. Lou could feel that she was right.

“I miss you,” she replied in a strained voice. Her clit throbbed under the vibrator, and she moved it to the side. She didn’t want to come yet.

“I miss you, too,” Debbie said. She began to thrust the glass dildo into herself, rocking the toy upwards on each stroke. Lou knew that trick, knew how to reach every sensitive spot inside her. “Fuck, Lou, I’m close.”

“Already?”

“ _Yes_.” Debbie squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“Look at me, honey,” Lou insisted. It was the only thing connecting them right now, after all. She needed to see her and be seen. Debbie’s eyes fluttered open.

“I bet you taste so good right now,” Debbie said breathlessly.

Lou smirked and dipped the fingers of her opposite hand, the one not holding the vibe against the sensitive skin next to her clit, into herself. She swirled them slowly, pressing against her inner walls and feeling her body clench in response. Her moisture coated her fingers, and as she brought the vibe to her clit once more, she felt it drip onto her palm. Debbie moaned, and Lou looked at her, noticing the way her head tilted forward, as if she could bring herself closer to Lou despite the miles between them.

“Look at you,” Debbie whispered. She thrust into herself again, palm pressing against her clit. Lou raised an eyebrow at her, challenging her to hold back her release as she brought her hand to her mouth and licked it from her palm to her fingertips, tasting herself and moaning her pleasure against her own skin. She could see the arousal on her fingers, thick and slippery. She sucked every drop, imaging that her own tongue was Debbie’s circling her fingertips. Her clit throbbed under the vibe again, and this time Lou pressed the toy harder against herself, chasing release.

“I’m close,” she gasped as she released her fingers.

“Me too,” Debbie said. She increased the speed of her thrusts, plunging the glass dildo into herself with renewed vigor, palm slapping against her clit.

“Together?” Lou asked, choking on the syllables a little in her desperation.

Debbie nodded frantically, and Lou saw her thighs begin to twitch. She pressed the vibe against her clit and canted her hips upwards. Warmth bloomed in her core, spreading outwards in waves as her orgasm crested and broke, rippling through her in time with the cry that fell from her lips. She heard Debbie muffle a moan in the back of her free hand as she found her own climax, shuddering around the crystal toy. Her beauty – raw and unfettered – took Lou’s breath. 

**

Lou turned off the vibe with a sigh and watched Debbie recover herself on the screen, chest heaving, a pink blush on her cheeks. She drew the dildo out of herself slowly. Lou could see strings of glistening moisture reflecting in the sunlight. She rubbed over herself lazily, massaging the last aftershocks from her tingling clit, imagined running her tongue over Debbie’s flushed, swollen arousal.

“I miss you,” she whispered, almost to herself.

Debbie nodded. “I’ll be home soon. Just a few days. We made it ten years, baby.”

Lou managed a weak laugh. “Yeah, I know, but this is different.”

Debbie smiled softly. “I know.”

“I love you.”

Debbie blushed and licked her lips. She tilted her head to the side, and Lou knew she was struggling with the words. She didn’t mind; it was part of who Debbie was.

“You love me, too,” Lou said.

Debbie’s smile grew. Her eyes were twinkling and soft with gratitude. “Yeah, I do,” she said, good humored, though Lou knew it was hard for her, that she put too much pressure on herself to _say_ it and ended up feeling guilty.

“When you get home, I don’t want to leave this bed for at least twelve hours,” Lou told her.

Debbie laughed, threw her head back so her hair caught the sunlight. “That’s a deal, baby,” she said.

They lay there quietly for several minutes, eyes searching each other’s faces, communicating without words, just like they always did. Lou didn’t need to tell her to be careful; Debbie didn’t need to tell her not to work too hard. It always felt weaker in words, especially when Debbie’s eyes held deeper emotions than Lou had ever heard her express. Eventually, Lou’s eyelids grew heavy. She needed some sleep before the evening shift. Debbie, of course, noticed.

“Get some sleep, baby. I’ll talk to you tonight, okay?”

Lou nodded. “Sounds good. Have some pasta for me, okay?”

“Of course.”

Debbie ended the call with a wave and a kiss that Lou could almost feel against her cheek. She sighed and stared up at the ceiling, willing time to move faster, but feeling less woebegone than she had the night before. One thing was certain: the images of Debbie with her legs spread in the Roman sunlight was enough to keep Lou’s mind occupied until she came home. Lou closed her eyes, pictured her, and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my wife go_get_your_top_hat for always beta-ing <3 :)
> 
> If you want to request a fic for this toybox series, please let me know in a comment on here or find me on tumblr at estel-of-irysi.
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day! Thank you for reading.


End file.
